


Red

by dawn_of_the_moon



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Colours, Gen, Happy Ending, Red - Freeform, Relationship depends on your viewpoint, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, So William or Sebastian or even Undertaker if you want, Someone in black
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 04:17:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6141208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawn_of_the_moon/pseuds/dawn_of_the_moon





	Red

Red. Oh, how she hated that colour, but how could it be that she both loved and hated it with a burning passion, and red was passionate and she was passionate and she **burned** so she was red. 

_(And she hated herself so how could she not hate red, she was red to the core of her very being, yet why did she love this hateful colour and cloud herself in it?)_

It was the colour of love, she thought, and love was something she was no stranger to, it had kept her awake many nights, thinking and thinking and crying and **feeling.**

_(And it made her want to tear her heart out but still she laughed and talked and pushed this dreadful feeling down until she could only feel it in the darkness of her room because they **couldn't** know.) _

It was the colour of blood, she thought, the substance that many called the "liquid of life" but then how could it be that the only times she felt truly alive were when that very liquid was dripping from her body, because only then did she have proof that she was **real.**

_(And she was real, how else could everything hurt this much, she had to be real but how could it be that something that was real had no worth so either she was nothing or they were **wrong.** ) _

It was the colour of passion, she thought, of roses and maidens and dancing and singing and everything she stood for and everything she aspired to be, but it was not who she was, she was a dying flame, desperate to find this feeling she lost when she was told that who she was was **wrong.**

_(So she dyed her hair red and she wore red and she danced and giggled and twirled and she hoped they wouldn't notice that none of it was **real.** ) _

It was the colour of pain, she thought, of hurtful words thrown her way by those who were supposed to love her, of knives and bandages and **punishment**.

_(So convinced she was wrong, what else could she do but put herself down until there was nothing left of her?)_

It was the colour of hatred, she thought, of looks in eyes that spoke of fire and death and destruction, of pushes and shoves and scowls and venomous words and backs turned towards her in negligence. 

_(And after a while she started to believe she deserved it, after all, why would they all hate her if there wasn't something **wrong** with her.) _

It was the colour she hated most and she just pretended to love it because that was expected of her but in reality her favourite colour was black, soothing and strong and comforting and **home.** And most importantly, it was the colour of that man, who made her feel she was allowed to be a lady, that she was real and didn't have to prove it and that she could discard her saddening, red mask and be herself. And that is how he taught her to love herself and to be loved, and with that she loved the colour of passion and from then on the colour of **happiness**.


End file.
